


‘i finally decided that understanding isn’t what grief is about.'

by notjustmom



Series: "You remember too much..." [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Gen, Missing Scene, no John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:54:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom
Summary: I was watching, re-watching the post mortuary scene from TLD and thought about how Sherlock must have retrieved John's walking stick after the walk with Faith... here's my idea about how it went...





	‘i finally decided that understanding isn’t what grief is about.'

"Go to hell, Sherlock... go straight into hell like you mean it..." Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "not, now, Mary, not when I'm trying to break into your flat - your old flat, John's flat..." he bit his lip as he heard the lock unlatch and he gently pushed the door open.

He closed his eyes and was still for a moment. He tried to focus on the scents, the tiny noises. He walked over to the bassinet. Her lovey wasn't in it - Molly had her again. But John - he stilled again. A snore from the bedroom makes him pause. He considered leaving and coming back another day, but he knew he wouldn't, he wouldn't remember if he didn't do it now. John was home. He moved silently, keeping his eyes to the floor, watching for any toys he could trip on, finding none; a surprisingly clean home for a baby and a widower - no. Not truly surprising. He had heard through channels that John had been having friends watch Rosie most nights. Friends... he rolled his eyes and stopped in the kitchen. Everything, neat as a pin, no experiments, not a single eyeball in the microwave... focus. You have a purpose here. Stick. Where would he keep the stick? In a cupboard possibly. No - he - damn. Leaning against his chair. He was using it again. Because of -

"Not because of you."

"Of course because of me," he hissed at Mary, sitting there watching him.

"You didn't do it."

"I did. I couldn't shut up, Mary."

"I know."

"The bloody secretary. She was so bloody smug, and I - I was done. I wanted - I was ready, Mary."

He watched her nod.

"And he hates me now."

"Doesn't hate you."

"Did you see the note he gave to Molly to give to me? No, of course you didn't, you're dead and I'm talking to myself again. Is that why he has two chairs still? He sees you, too. Can't live with the idea that you're dead. He's living as if you are here still. Bloody hell." He shook his head and fell into John's chair. "Yes, I know I should go. I - I am sorry, Mary."

"What for?"

He lowered his head and met her eyes. "For failing to keep my vow to you and John and Rosie. I thought if I got you home -"

"You didn't know what you were up against when you made that vow. You were already grieving when you made that vow, grieving his loss, again, and you didn't know, Sherlock, who I was, what I was capable of, what I had done -."

"Mary."

"If anyone owes someone an apology, it's me. I shouldn't have put this on you." She looked up at him and shook her blonde curls. "But you would have - you would have - I thought if I gave you a case - a purpose - you would find a way -"

Sherlock shook his head, then nodded. "I - the three of you - you were my - family."

"John - and Rosie, you will have to learn to forgive him. To forgive yourself - take the stick and go."

 

"Shezza!"

"Why aren't you at Baker Street?"

"I am, so are you!"

 

Sherlock looked at the stick leaning against John's overstuffed chair and nodded, before he collpased onto the couch and slept for eight hours straight.


End file.
